


A Glimpse of the Prince

by lexyhamilton (ohheichoumyheichou)



Series: How Have the Mighty Fallen [1]
Category: Christian Bible (Old Testament), תנ"ך | Tanakh
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:56:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2370191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohheichoumyheichou/pseuds/lexyhamilton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in 2006, reposted from LJ, AFF.net etc<br/>Blanket disclaimer on all my biblefic: this is fiction inspired by stories and characters in the Old Testament, not any sort of exegesis or legitimate interpretation.</p><p>Original A/N: This fic takes place in that very nebulous time period between David becoming part of Saul's court as lyre player and defeating Goliath on the battlefield. (This is nebulous, because the Bible almost describes it as if Saul meets David for the first time TWICE and that's often used to discredit the Bible not only a work of fiction but a disorganized one at that. I have my thoughts on that gripe, but that's a topic unto itself.) In any case, though the D/J relationship only begins after David defeats Goliath, I am guessing that David would know who Jonathan was well before then, seeing as how Jonathan was the oldest prince. I also see David as an astute political mind from his earliest appearances, and think he would especially care to know who the heir to the throne was.<br/>Extrapolating from there with nary a shred of concrete evidence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Glimpse of the Prince

“There he stands.” Shemaiah nodded with his head in the direction of young soldiers at archery practice. “The King’s eldest is also the tallest among them.”

David stared across the field at the man in question, surprised at how simply he was dressed and how unassuming was his presence though those gathered around him were only soldiers-in-training, not much older than David and his friend.

He had Saul’s general lineaments—there was no mistaking that even from a distance—but they were softer, more refined, as if royal blood purified itself in the next generation. Jonathan reached for an arrow from the quiver, tightening the bowstring behind its notch end in one easy motion, and suddenly it was obvious that he was a son of God’s favorites. Grace, strength, beauty—David had not encountered all three qualities together thus up in the shepherding hills of his father’s neighborhood.

“But how old is he, that he does not sprout a beard?” David asked of the squire.

“Eight or nine harvests more than we have seen, I reckon. Twenty and two, by all accounts I’ve heard. He applies the blade to his face in the Philistine fashion.”

“Is it vanity?” It seemed incongruous to David, that this prince, so humble, would disobey God and clear his face.

“Some think so. It displeases the King to no end, because he believes Prince Jonathan is only trying to fulfill Samuel’s prophecy.”

David watched intently as Jonathan guided the hands of another boy—he could not be older than sixteen—standing beside him, long-fingered hands pulling apart the bow and the boy’s elbow, poising the arrow, leaning in to his pupil’s face to check his aim.

“What is the prophecy?”

“Don’t you know? Old Samuel has seen visions of death at a young age on the battlefield for Saul’s first child. And so Jonathan goes beardless even now, awaiting death with a calm conscience and a clear face… Are you listening, David?”

David turned slightly toward his friend, but his eyes were glued to the Prince. This is the kind of man he wanted to be. He would look up to him—perhaps ask Saul to be given archery practice even before he turned fifteen.

“Know what else they say?” Shemaiah waited for David to give him his full attention. “They say the Prince has a strange disposition about him. They say he kissed his armor bearer between the stone pillars at the palace where no one would see.”

“So who saw?”

“Well, I don’t know, but that is the story.”

“He kissed him as one kisses a woman?”

“Yes, but do not spread this. I only know because I am friends with an important person.”

“The important person would not happen to be the cook?” David asked, laughing.

“Not only the cook!” Shemaiah's crimson cheeks suggested otherwise. What the cook knew everyone found out eventually, with his talking to anyone willing to listen. David was not privy to such gossip only because he had joined the court a few weeks ago. Most of these stories were baseless rumor, but David was struck by the idea—Jonathan, this tall, quiet, sad-smiling divine creature, kissing a youth with exotic, immoral love in the shadows. The thought was a song for the lyre unto itself, and David wondered if he could perform it without Saul recognizing its basis.

Jonathan was gathering arrows back, and leaned down to retrieve one that had fallen in the grass, powerful thigh muscles shifting under golden skin. David felt his body respond and quickly arranged the tunic on his lap. He stared down at his own skinny thighs, thirteen-year-old knees knobby and weak, covered in scars not from battle but chasing sheep through brambles.

Jonathan brushed back black hair from his eyes as he rose, unaware of his own beauty, unaware of being watched so intently by the scrawny boys sitting on the steps to the palace. He slung the quiver over his shoulder, heading back indoors with the throng of youth. David and Shemaiah rose and scuttled out of the way, bowing their heads to show due reverence to royalty. David, raised in a rural home, allowed impatience and curiosity to override courtly manners, and looked up just as Jonathan passed, eyes first fixing on the only ostentatious article of clothing on the man that might suggest his station in life—a studded girdle with gem color from the tribe of Judah.

David raised his eyes and met Jonathan’s brief gaze, a glimpse of a smile from the Prince, and the moment was over, the small entourage passing by quickly and only David’s hasty heartbeat remaining as a trace of Jonathan’s presence.

The prestige of being intimate with such an inaccessible person was overwhelming David. The scene from rumors returned as a shiver down his spine, like religious ecstasy from psalms.

“I will have you, one day,” he whispered, so quietly that even Shemaiah did not take notice as they walked back into the palace’s gloomy interior, both sighing, bracing themselves for a resumption of work under Saul.


End file.
